Addicting Obsessions
by Tropical Flavored Yama
Summary: A murder is making newspaper headlines; magical and muggle. The murder is on the loose, but what happens when all clues point to someone at Hogwarts? Who is this mass murderer? Most likely not what you think!
1. Chapter 1: Prologue to Murder

Prolog to Murder

Turning sixteen is a momentous occasion in one's life. It is at sixteen when muggles are able to get their "driving license." It is at sixteen when fresh wizards and witches are pondering what they'll do after graduation the follow year. At sixteen, young wizards and witches have learned almost everything their school will ever teach them. By sixteen, almost everyone has been on a "date" with a member of the opposite sex, or perhaps with a member of the same sex. It is at sixteen when we truly grasp our history. We find our idenity. We learn who our parents were, who our ancesstors were, who and what we really are, and glance at our future before us. If you can say turning sixteen is nothing special, you've obviously lost your mind.

It is at sixteen, werewolves begin to make very critical decisions in their lives. Weather to follow their instincts and kill. Or to try to live a normal life, confiding their secrets in only close family and friends and only "wolfing out" on full moons. It is at sixteen when vampires have their first taste of blood. Well, at least are legally able to get the blood on their own, since many families insist they grow accustom to the taste by the time they are of age to attend wizarding school. It is at sixteen when harpies' ears become delicate to the sound of brass instruments. It is at sixteen when veelas reach their final stages of growing and become even more beautiful and dangerous. More dangerous now because hormones are racing at full speed at sixteen and by now they've learned how to use their powers to their advantage. It is at sixteen sirens first find their voice. It seems all dark creatures discover their longing for blood and need to kill at the age of sixteen. At this age we dark creatures make a choice, to whom we will give allegence. To some, it is the ministry of magic, to even a smaller amount, it's no one at all, but to a majority of us, it's the Dark Lord.

For now I am a loner, but maybe I will find something promising in Lord Voldemort. Perhaps, he can tell me my real worth. My sad excuse for parents tell me I smart, perfect, and wonderful. Ha, that's a laugh. I am strong and that's all that matters. Power and strength. Power, strength, and blood. I must have blood. And I will get it tonight.


	2. Chapter 2: Blood is Addicting

A/N: Dear Reader, I've done fairly extensive research on most if not all of the creatures listed. Stating specific creatures now would take away from the plot line but I will say that all web sites used were found of MSN searches and Microsoft Encarta. I also used a few books from my best friend's fairly large collection of books on magic, dark magic, magical creatures, and mythology. Some information may be slightly altered or made up to fit the specific role set for the character in the story. Thank you. *-TFY-*

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (TM) nor any of its affiliates. Any other copy-written material will be noted at the end of the chapter in which it's mentioned.

_I walked down the side walk, my hood to my cloak masking my face. Across the street a part was going on; I heard about it through a friend. Friend. Now that's unusual word. Me, have friends? Yeah right. I haven't any time for "friends". Perhaps a better way to put it is I overheard people talking in town._

I looked at the door just as a young boy walked out. He looked about 16. He turned the corner. I quietly followed him. Perfect, he's walking on a street with almost no light. No light for anyone to see… He didn't even realize someone was there following him, his mistake. Well, this way I can strike without much effort. I covered his mouth from behind and pulled him backwards with me into the bushes along side the walkway. He tried to fight me, but he was weak. Very weak and uncoordinated. Perhaps he had one too many drinks, either way he was no challenge at all. His eyes stared up at me in horror. I memorized everything about this moment, I would want to remember my first murder was like later on, to tell the Dark Lord, if he's worth trouble. This boy's blue eyes were filled with fear, unruly red hair fell in front of those terrified eyes. The bridge of his nose was dotted with freckles that continued over on both cheeks. I'll be damned, I couldn't help but think, look who I caught. I lowered my head and sank my razor sharp teeth into his flesh and ripped them back out again. His cry of pain pierced the warm summer night air but I silenced him. Dark magic is an amazing art form. The way you feel after casting your first forbidden spell, oh it is absolutely breathtaking. And nothing can replace the way you feel after your very first ruthless murder.

I sliced him and peeled off his skin. Mmmm… Is there anything more delicious than recently peeled human flesh? And is there anything sweeter than freshly squeezed innocent blood? That salty sweet liquid that tastes of molten silver. Once one has tasted it's irresistible poison, they are either immediately appalled or instantly hooked. Blood is addicting, and I knew I'd kill again. I ate all his organs, drank all but a few drips of blood, leaving only measly pieces of skin too small to bother with and his hair behind, not wasting any of him. I carefully took a lock of hair to keep as a reminder of this night. Leaving his cloths and bones lying there with the rest of his "scraps" there, in the bushes, I walked away into the night. I chose to ignore the fact that his shoe was visible, sticking abruptly out of the overgrown bush, I didn't want to leave any finger prints behind. Blood lingered everywhere on my body, I magically made the blood from my shoes disappear, so I wouldn't leave footprints. I licked the blood off my lips and hands and arms while make the blood on my clothes and in my hair disappear as well.

I crept back into my room and into my bed, deciding I'd take a shower in morning. I closed my eyes; they way he looked at me before I struck lingered in my head, imprinted in my mind. I grinned wickedly watching the night's activities replay in my mind and drifted off into sleep.

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Sorry this chapter was so short. I promise the chapters will get longer, and I purposely left the disclaimer off the first chapter so I wouldn't ruin the mode. I also promise that only murder scenes will be written in first person so that their identity remains secret. And please review, I don't_ add_ chapters unless there are 3 to 5 reviews. *-TFY-*


	3. Chapter 3: Such a Terrible Death

A/N: Dear Reader, I've done fairly extensive research on most if not all of the creatures listed. Stating specific creatures now would take away from the plot line but I will say that all web sites used were found of MSN searches and Microsoft Encarta. I also used a few books from my best friend's fairly large collection of books on magic, dark magic, magical creatures, and mythology. Some information may be slightly altered or made up to fit the specific role set for the character in the story. Thank you. *-TFY-*

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (TM) nor any of its affiliates. Any other copy-written material will be noted at the end of the chapter in which it's mentioned.

Stephanie Granger stood over the stove, cooking scrambled eggs. Her light blue eyes were fixed on the pan, a small stand of her shoulder length, bang-free brown hair fell in front of her face and she tucked it behind her ear. Her daughter, Hermione, was still upstairs getting ready and her husband had gone outside to get the paper. There was a light tapping on the window above the sink, which were a few feet from the stove. Mrs. Granger smiled and opened it, letting in a medium sized barn owl, which delivered her Daily Prophet each morning. "Hello Archer," she said to the bird as it perched on her shoulder. She opened the cabinet, taking out some owl treats to give Archer. He ate the treats and hooted happily, and then flew off; after Mrs. Granger had paid him of course. Not even glancing at the paper, she set it down on the counter. Soon after she heard the door creak open. "Honey?" she called to her husband. When he didn't respond, she wiped her hands on her apron, tilting towards the door to glance at her husband. "Peter?" She called again. He looked up at her, his brown eyes expressing despair, and forced a sad smile. This concerned her. "What's wrong darling?"

"People," he answered simply. He walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. His wife, after turning off the stove since the eggs were done, glanced over his shoulder, a bold headline catching her eye. 

****

"PECULIAR MURDER STUMPS OFFICALS"

She gasped slightly, and read on in horror.

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LONDON, ENGLAND – Caitlin Sullivan took her dog for their usual late night stroll when she returned home from work last night, August 18. She left her apartment on Winchester around 11:30 PM last night, according to Ms. Sullivan. She was walking down the darkened Sorana Street, when her dog stopped suddenly. "I pulled on his leash, I wanted to go- I could hear a party raging not too far away, but he had other plans," stated Ms. Sullivan, "It was then I noticed this shoe protruding from the bush. I was surprised but figured some kid had passed out from too much alcohol or something. So I looked into the bush, but what I terrified me. It was terrible…" Caitlin called the police immediately on her cell phone, which she carried with her everywhere in her purse. When they arrived, they too were shocked at what they found. Lying in the bushes, next to a pile of ripped clothing,, were bones; just bones.

"This case really perplexed us," Captain John Stake told reporters, "Almost nothing was left on the bones. Whoever did this, skinned the victim then removed all the organs and blood as well, and that's nearly impossible to do without leaving much behind. We had no evidence that the bones hadn't been there forever, the way they were that clean, aside from small drops of blood and the heavy scent of death."

The victim has been identified by the ID card in his pants pocket. The parents wish his identity not be revealed until they've had time to inform their family and friends.

Mrs. Granger tore her eyes from the paper. She went back over to the sink and started cleaning some dishes, that were already very clean. She scrubbed at the plate, a few tears escaping her eyes. She never could watch the news, or read a muggle newspaper, because they were simply too terrible and depressing. Mr. Granger sighed sadly watching his wife. He knew the effect murder stories had on her, especially since her high school boyfriend was shot when she was younger. The doorbell rang, and Mr. Granger rose from he seat, seeing his wife was in no condition to greet guests. He walked through the living room and opened the door to find a woman with beautiful, short brown hair and troubled blue eyes. "Hello Ruth dear, it's very nice to see you. To what do I owe for this surprise?" Ruth hesitated for a moment, her eyes looking slightly red and puffy, like she had been crying.

"I need to talk to Hermione," She said. Mr. Granger nodded.

"Come in, I'll get her for you." He opened the door wider and stepped aside to let her in. "Stephanie, Mrs. Ruth O'Keeffe is here. Could you please show her to the sitting room while I get Hermione?" Mrs. Granger walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Of course." She beckoned for Ruth to follow her, while Mr. Granger started the ascent upstairs to gather his daughter. He heard the water running and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Hermione, Mrs. O'Keeffe is here to see you."

"I'll be out in a second Dad," she called back. He heard the water stop shortly after and Hermione emerge clad in a jade green tank top from American Eagle and black shorts with white stripes going down both the outer sides along with slits about two inches long. She had rolled up the pants twice, so that they were even shorter, like most cheerleaders do to show off their asses. Her hair didn't look like it had been properly brushed, defrizzed, and styled; which it probably hadn't since she had been out moments after he had beckoned her. She turned off the bathroom light and walked down the hall barefooted, leaving everything in the bathroom as it was, not bothering to clean anything up since she had a guest. Her father followed her down the stairs, and into the living room where her mother and Mrs. O'Keeffe were waiting. She sat down on the couch and greeted Ruth politely. "Hello Mrs. O'Keeffe. How are you today?"

"I'm not doing too well actually," She answered, still seeming shaken up about something and looking like she was on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry, that's too bad," Hermione voiced sympathetically, "And Kevin, how is he? He hasn't called this past week, he knows I'm leaving tomorrow." At this Mrs. O'Keeffe started sobbing. 

"Oh Hermione… It's just terrible…" She sobbed.

"What is?"

"Kevin… He was murdered last night…" Mrs. Granger started crying as well, fearing Kevin's death was the one she had read about. Hermione looked slightly shaken.

"What?" She asked timidly.

"Last night, he went to a party… And, and he never came home… The police called and said he was dead…" She continued to sob. Hermione stood up and sat next to her, hugging her tightly. 

"I'm so sorry…" She said rocking the woman in her arms, looking rattled. Mrs. Granger had now started to cry harder, Kevin was the one she had read about.

"Such a terrible death," Mrs. Granger murmured, tears blurring the room around her. Even Mr. Granger's eyes were wet. But not Hermione, she seemed to remain unscathed. This shocked her mother slightly, but she realized that Hermione had gone through this before and must have not been as fazed as everyone else; after all she had seen several deaths at Hogwarts since fourth year. About five more students had died in the two years proceeding, Hermione must have know how to handle the pain. Mrs. O'Keeffe continued to cry into Hermione's chest.

"I haven't told them yet…" She sobbed. "I couldn't bring myself to tell Katie yet, and Meghan's gone for the weekend…" Katie was Kevin's younger sister, who was currently about eight years old. And Meghan was Kevin's older sister, who was currently eighteen, two years older than Kevin. When Hermione was younger, she had often played with Meghan, despite the two year age difference. "I thought I should tell you first, since you were his girlfriend… I was hoping you could help me explain everything to Katie… "

"Of course, I want to help in anyway I can. How exactly was he killed?" She asked tentatively.

"They don't know… All they found was bones… I was hoping that you… you might know of something that would kill him like that…" The O'Keeffe's all knew Hermione was a witch. She had told Kevin, her best friend since she was three, when she was going into her third year. He had been thrilled for her, and promised to keep her secret, like every other secret of hers he had kept. She then told his sisters and parents as soon as they started dating, Meghan took everything well, Mr. And Mrs. O'Keeffe eased into the idea, and Katie had developed a fear of the dark, worried that ghosts would haunt her at night. "I don't think a human could have done it… It was too unimaginable for any person to think up and perform…" Hermione assumed she was implying that perhaps a werewolf or something had done this. "Just come with me to talk to the girls… I can't do it by myself…" Hermione looked at her parents, who both nodded solemnly.

"Of course," she said softly. Mrs. O'Keeffe pulled back from Hermione and wiped her eyes. Hermione slipped on a pair of sandals and helped Mrs. O'Keeffe off the couch and they walked out the back door, heading towards the O'Keeffe's house. It lay right behind Hermione's. They walked past the playhouses and beautiful garden Mr. O'Keeffe had planted in sad silence. Ruth took a quivering breath as she opened the side door to her house.

_____________________________________________________________

"BOYS! GINNY! BREAKFAST!" Molly Weasley called up the stairs. She almost instantly heard loud thumps upstairs, signaling everyone was rushing out of bed to get ready. It was September 20, and because of some events that had taken place over the summer, students attending Hogwarts could not go back to school until the 21st of September, instead of the usual August 31st. Molly's short, plump figure walked over to the kitchen table and plopped down. She waved her wand and the food started to dish itself onto plates. Her red hair had only a few streaks of gray, which she hadn't had the time to cover with magic this morning, showing hints of her age. Her greenish, blue eyes showed her exhaustion. There was a light tapping on the window. She waved her wand, letting the owl in. It dropped the wizarding newspaper it had carried in its talons, and flew off. She picked it up and was about to read it, when a loud explosion caused her to jump from her seat. Two tall, red-headed boys bounded down the stairs, snickering and grinning madly. Molly sighed, "What did they do now?" She thought. Seconds latter, a very high pitched scream sounded and a boy with bright green hair, and purple eyes furiously stomped down the stairs. He was being followed by a girl who's red hair was pulled into two braided pigtails and a boy with black hair and glasses, who both were trying to contain their giggles by covering their mouths. Molly bit her lip, trying to contain her laughter, which was a matter in which she had plenty of practice, her sons being who they were. Her amusement quickly faded before anyone really noticed it. "Fred, George, what on earth have you done to your brother?" 

"We turned his hair green," Fred said simply.

"Yes, and his eyes purple. It's nothing big," George added. 

"How can they be so calm every, single time they get in trouble?" Molly inwardly wondered. "Why?" She asked them, faking anger, which wasn't too hard.

"It started with an argument Mrs. Weasley," The black haired boy contributed. The girl giggled. Molly raised her eyebrows.

"Is that so Harry?"

"Yes," He snickered, "Fred and George were trying to get Ron to admit he screams like a girl."

"But he wouldn't," The girl added sitting down in the seat next to her mother, "So Fred and George decided to prove it. We all heard a big explosion, and they left. When the smoke cleared, we saw Ron…" She started laughing again. The boy with green hair crosses his arms.

"It's not funny," He said indignantly.

"Yes it is Ronnie-kins," Fred told him, "_And_ we got to prove you scream like a girl." The girl gasped suddenly, clasping her hand over her mouth.

"Oh my God…" She muttered.

"What is it Ginny?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, did you forget to kiss your boyfriend this morning when you woke up?" George smirked. Ginny didn't even blush, which was extremely odd, since she would allways go red at the mention of her 'boyfriend'; she just stared at the table, horror stricken.

"Ginny?" Ron asked more nervously.

"Look," she said, her voice muffled by one hand, pointing to the newspaper with the other. Everyone crowded around the table to see what she was pointing at, but everyone couldn't fit.

"Ginny, why don't you read it to us?" Ron asked softly. Ginny nodded solemnly and began to read the article. 

****

Muggle Death Caused By Dark Magic

__

MUGGLE LONDON, ENGLAND- The Dark Arts Detection Agency picked up a strong reading of dark magic around 11 o'clock last night. Aurors were sent out promptly, but the caster of the spell cleverly altered be casting properties of their wand so that spell could not be pinpointed exactly, giving them time to escape, and blocked the identification spells used at the DADA, there for concealing the their identity. 

By the time the Aurors arrived at the casting site, the victim was already dead and a muggle by the name of Sarah Sullivan had arrived and called muggle officials (called Policemen). These men were perplexed at what was left of the victim. The murder had removed all the victim's skin and organs, and there were almost no traces of blood left on the site, giving the muggles very little to go off of.

Auror Matthew Rendings told Daily Prophet_ reporters, "We haven't seen anything like this in at least half a century… Controversy definitely surrounds this murder; no one can quite say who, or what, did this, not to mention why. Some think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is tied to this. Others strongly object saying this crime is too different. But who can be absolutely sure? What I am sure of, however, is whatever it is, I don't think we've seen the last of it."_

Mrs. Weasley covered her mouth with her hand, "Oh God…" 

"That's terrible," Harry managed to say softly. Ginny nodded.

"Yes, but that's not all the article say…" She trailed off sadly. 

"There's more?" Mrs. Weasley asked quietly. Ginny nodded and read the last sentence, tears filling her eyes. 

__

The murdered muggle was a teenage boy named Kevin O'Keeffe.

"Why does his name sound familiar?" Ron asked solemnly, unable to remember who he was. Ginny's voice cracked.

"Hermione's boyfriend."

"Oh…" He said sadly, for loss of words. Everyone was at loss of words, one of the people closest to them had lost her boyfriend. And it wasn't like they had known each other the two months they were dating, Hermione talked about Kevin, even before they were going out, she once told Harry and Ron she had known him practically all her life. Hermione had allways wrote him letters during the school year, asking how his family was, how school was going, how "evil" the teachers were that year. She'd read his letters to Harry and Ron, who'd sometimes even make appearances in her letters back, often saying "Hi" or "Be glad you don't how Snape" or something of that sort. Kevin had even wrote them letters of their own sometimes. Plus, there was a moving photo of him and Hermione, which Ginny had taken when she spent the night, on her bed stand at Hogwarts.

Every one had known Kevin, he was at this huge early birthday party the Gryffindors had thrown for Hermione last July. Not to mention, he was written about in Witch Weekly. Right next to the picture taken by Ginny at the party of Harry, Ron, Kevin, and Hermione sitting under a tree with Kevin's arm around Hermione; Ginny was becoming quite a photographer. How Witch Weekly managed to get the photo, no one knew. But it was a front page story; "Harry Potter Loses His Secret Love To Muggle" or something along those lines. Ginny started crying. Harry, who had been sitting next to Ginny, put his arm around her. She turned and cried into his shoulder. He rubbed his hand along her back soothingly, tears falling into her hair. Ron was fuming with anger, he clenched his fists tears blurring the room around him. Mrs. Weasley sat crying silently, only an occasion deep and ragged breath was heard. Fred bit his lip at stared at the ground, tears slipping from his eyes. George tried to process it all, tears brimming his eyes. No matter how many times he tried to wake up from this horrible dream, no matter how many ways he looked at it, it stayed the same. Kevin O'Keeffe _was_ dead.

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Sorry for such the long wait on this chapter, I started writing another story, Oh Bloody Hell, and since _everyone_ seemed to love it _sooooo_ much I _had _to write more. Hey! Give me a break! I had over eight reviews in less than twenty-four hours! I couldn't not write more! Besides, this actually has a plot (opps, don't tell my other readers that OBH doesn't… ^_-) and it's a lot harder to write than a story with totally random occurrences. But that's no excuse, sorry for the wait. You'll have to wait, yes yet again, for the next chapter because since I take all honors classes, I have large amounts of homework. Once again, sorry! And please review! *-TFY-*


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